Harry Potter and the Legend of the Immortali
by gizachick
Summary: ON HIATUS Takes place in sixth year. Harry goes through some changes beginning on his birthday. There will be a new DADA teacher, other realms, new abilities, and secrets. AU from 5th year.
1. Pertinent Information

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I also do not own his universe. I do, however, own my original character(s), but as I have not yet introduced her/them in the story, I won't say anything else about her/them. This is the only place where I will be posting a disclaimer and therefore applies to all following chapters.

Notes:

Please note that this fic is AU beginning during OotP! It does not completely follow cannon as laid out by Ms. Rowling in book 5 and events of this fic follow MY version of Harry's 5th year (briefly explained below), not hers.

If you like it, review! If you don't like it, review! If you have no opinion at all, you may not want to review.

Useful tidbit:

Incase anyone is curious I am providing this helpful piece of information, inquisitive minds enjoy.

Main Entry: **per·spic·u·ous**  
Pronunciation: p&r-'spi-ky&-w&s  
Function: _adjective_  
Etymology: Latin _perspicuus _transparent, perspicuous, from _perspicere_  
Date: 1586  
plain to the understanding especially because of clarity and precision of presentation a _perspicuous_ argument  
**synonym** see CLEAR  
- **per·spi·cu·ity** /p&r-sp&-'kyü-&-tE/ _noun_  
- **per·spic·u·ous·ly** /p&r-'spi-ky&-w&s-lE/ _adverb_  
- **per·spic·u·ous·ness** _noun_

After receiving a couple of questions about it in reviews, I decided to provide some general background information so that everyone knows what parts of OotP I am incorporating and which parts I'm changing.

Q _Since Sirius survived the department of mysteries, what actually happened that night according to your story?_

**No one fell through the veil. In fact, no one went to the Department of Mysteries that night at all. Harry and Ron played a game of chess that night while Hermione read a book about wood mice and their fascinating mating rituals. I don't like impulsive Harry, so I've basically created my own idea of how he should act. In my story you can basically assume that the only things I'll be incorporating from Book 5 are that Harry and his friends did go through their 5th year, basically all of the book up until they went to school happened, so that's like the first 250 pages or something, but after that I just pick out the things that I think should have happened. **

**Harry sees the thestrals, the trio sort of makes friends (or friendly acquaintances) with Luna Lovegood, Harry has Occlumency classes with Snape and events happen according to cannon regarding that specifically. Umbridge is DADA teacher, Trelawney never gets fired and Hagrid never brings Grawp to the forest, he did go on his trip to the giants and they decline to pick sides. Firenze doesn't fall out with the other centaurs and there is no quarrel between them and Hagrid. Harry never dates or kisses Cho Chang, because that makes me squirm. He got over his little crush on her during the summer between 4th and 5th years. The DA did happen, because Umbridge is a cow, but that one girl (I'm too lazy to look up her name, but you know who I mean right?) never rats them out. Harry was banned from Quidditch, the twins did leave the school before graduation, and as of the beginning of my story Harry has never attempted to use an Unforgivable Curse. Ok, so there are some basics. **

**Now for some things I'm changing hugely. Umbridge is kicked out of the school and sent to Azkaban because she is discovered as a Death Eater. Mostly because I hate her. I'm not even going to invent a reason for why or how it happened because it really doesn't have anything to do with my story. If I ever bring it up in the story then I'll explain it. Harry is not dumb and remembers the mirror Sirius gave him, therefore saving everyone loads of trouble. I'm leaving the parts about the Dark Lord giving Harry the dreams about the Department of Mysteries, but I'm changing the part about the Prophecy. I don't like it. I think it's dumb. In fact, the lack of this particular prophecy is what makes my entire story possible. So there will be a new reason why the Dark Lord wanted to kill Harry, but I won't explain that to you. You'll just have to wait and see. **

Q _WHERE is Harry's guard? WHY have they not been paying attention to Harry while he is outside?_

Well, they do pay attention to him when he's off the Dursley's property. They have no real reason to assume that he would be in any sort of danger while 'protected' by the wards on the property. They follow him around wherever he goes otherwise. Watching him while he's in the house or yard would be like invasion of privacy, Harry's and the Dursley's. He hasn't said anything or given any indication to them that he is being abused by his family, so like any nice witch or wizard, they keep their noses out of his private business. You would think they'd be a bit more perceptive though wouldn't you? Oh well.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

22 September 2003

I am writing this story in an attempt to enhance my fiction writing skills. Not that I had any to begin with, but I think it would come in handy to be able to write fiction. I am rather good at essays, but they just don't normally have any dialogue (or imagination). So, please review and let me know what you think I'm doing right or wrong. Let me know if my dialogue portions suck, or if they're alright because I have basically no experience in writing dialogue. I do sometimes have a rather chatty writing style though. But that's not always a good thing. So anyway, just please review!

First chapter will hopefully be up today, but I have to leave for work in 42 minutes, so that might not be possible, as I have no power or internet at my house right now, thanks to hurricane Isabel.

On a different note, I need to let everyone know a few things about my story. I didn't particularly like Ms. Rowling's version of book 5, so while I will be incorporating some of the events of Order of the Phoenix, some things I will change to suit myself. If you read the book, then you will notice what I changed.


	2. Ch 1: Shadow Watcher

Chapter 1: Shadow Watcher 

- - - - - - - **30 July** - - - - - - - - - - -

A shadow crept silently across the western wall of a small bedroom in Surrey. Highlights of pink and orange were making their first appearances far off to the east, peeking above the horizon; and a small teenage boy lay sleeping on his bare mattress at number 4 Privet Drive. The shadow watched, and waited.

As dawn approached, rustling sounds could be heard coming from the large master suite on the second floor of the house, but the young inhabitant of the smallest bedroom was unaware. Harry Potter lay dreaming on his mattress, his eyes moving swiftly behind their lids as his watched the closing events of a rather unimportant, but still painful Death Eater meeting. As the movement of the elder Dursleys became louder, the Shadow Watcher crept closer to Harry's bed, but as it drew up next to him Harry's eyes shot open and he sat up, panting, the stinging in his scar fading away to nothing, and the shadow was gone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Unaware of his nighttime visitor, Harry opened his eyes and stretched out a hand to find his glasses, which he had placed on the floor beside his mattress before falling asleep the night before. He could hear the shower running across the hall and knew it was only a matter of minutes before his Aunt Petunia would be screeching for him to...

"Get up! And cook our breakfast Boy!"

He groaned quietly as he heard the predictable yell coming through his door, and stood slowly, stretching his body full of muscles, sore from long hours of manual labor. After he had arrived 'home' from his 5th year at Hogwarts, Harry's Uncle Vernon had insisted that he get a job, "To pay your way boy. We've spent enough money on you through the years and it's time you started pulling your weight around here", was his argument. No matter that Harry already did all of the cooking, cleaning, gardening and repair work at the house. So, for the past month and a half Harry had been going to his job at the local gravel yard, where he was paid 10p for every 50lbs. of gravel he bagged and loaded onto a steel; funds that were immediately collected by Vernon when he brought them home at the end of each week.

The Order, of course, was aware of this as whomever was guarding Harry at the time had to accompany him to the gravel yard each day. Not that they were any help. They would follow him to work, and then follow him home, but they never bothered to find out what went on **inside** the house.

Therefore, at the start of another normal day at number 4, no one outside of the Dursley family saw as Vernon came out of his bedroom in time to see his nephew Harry preparing to descend the stairs, intent on beginning the morning meal. And no one (besides Petunia) saw when Vernon's eyes took on an almost maniacal glint, and certainly no one saw as Vernon pushed his nephew down the stairs, to land in a quietly moaning heap on the throw rug in the entrance hall below. What happened next, though, was seen by no one, inside the house or out.

A cool hand brushed softly across his eyes as Harry lay curled into a fetal position where he'd landed at the bottom of the stairs, and a gentle body guarded him from the kick Vernon aimed at 'the boy's' back as he made his way past. Weary emerald eyes opened to see who had come to his aid, but immediately sharpened when they saw no one. His body tensed as he prepared to jump to his feet, but relaxed slightly as an ethereal voice surrounded him.

"Calm child, and be still. I have much to say and little time."

Harry sat up slowly as he felt the cool touch again on his face, and put out a cautious hand to touch his invisible visitor, but swiftly drew it back when it encountered nothing. He glanced cautiously around the hall, seeing nothing but shadows that shifted in his periphery.

"Who are you? How did you get into my house?"

"I am but a messenger today, how I am here is of little consequence."

The voice was distinctly feminine, but deeply resonant, and seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Harry wiped at the trail of blood that was making its way down his chin from the puncture wound in his bottom lip, where his teeth had gone through when his face hit the fifth stair. He glanced around the room once again and his gaze settled on a patch of wall where the shadows seemed to writhe and shift on their own. He stayed where he was, cautiously waiting for the voice to speak again. He had learned patience sometime during the past few months, and had come to the conclusion that waiting was often his best option when it came to the unknown.

"Many changes are to come, set in motion by the passing of time, and by Fate, who is always with you. Do not be afraid, for these changes will mold you into what you are meant to become. A guardian awaits you, and you must trust to her guidance. Do not seek her, for she will reveal herself to you when the time is right. As your day of birth passes, be prepared for the first changes, and keep them secret, others will not understand. Take heed of my advice young one, for it shall not be offered twice. Remember that which I have said Harry Potter, and all will be well..."

One last cool touch across his brow, and the shadows and voice were gone. To say that Harry was shocked speechless would be putting it mildly, as he was at that moment standing there in the front hall, opening and closing his mouth at a random spot on the wall, with one arm raised above his head, like a primary school child waiting to be called on by his teacher. A thousand thoughts were racing through his head, each clamoring for a spot at the forefront of his mind.

'Changes? What kind of changes? Barmy female shadows waltzing around the front hall telling me weird stuff... Well she was rather persuasive, wasn't she? What!? She barely told me anything useful at all! That's because you don't listen you twit! Yes I do! Do not! Do so! Not! So! Shut up**!'** (Well, no one ever said that Harry was completely sane did they?)

And that was how Mrs. Petunia Dursley found him. Mouth open, one arm in the air, blood trickling down his chin and one shoe untied, staring at the wall. For one miniscule moment she actually considered asking him if he was all right, but the thought quickly left her and she snapped at him to stop standing about like an idiot and get to work. This served to shake him out of his conversation with himself, and he rushed to clean the breakfast dishes before beginning the 5-mile jog to the gravel yard.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

10 miles, 5000 lbs. of gravel and a 3-minute chat with Mrs. Figg later, Harry was on the front step of his house preparing to enter. He had just taken off his shoes (because his aunt would have a fit if he tracked dust through her lovely clean home) and opened the door when he felt the ghost of a cool hand on the back of his neck. He froze. He had completely forgotten about his morning visitor, but as he looked in at the entrance hall the events of the morning came crashing back into his head. His thoughts became inverted as he continued into the house and up the stairs to take a shower before starting on his afternoon chores.

As he stood before the full-length mirror in the bathroom looking at his naked form, he wondered exactly what sort of 'changes' the shadow had meant when she said he would change. He took a moment to inspect his body, noting the short stature (around 5'7"), dark tan (from 2 months of working in the summer sun), wiry muscles and various scrapes and bruises. He prodded at a particularly nasty looking black and purple boot-shaped bruise on his mid-abdomen; a souvenir from the day before, when his uncle had caught him taking a break while painting the garden fence. Wincing, he pulled back and set about rinsing himself of the day's covering of gravel dust, but not bothering to wash, as he knew another shower would be needed by evening. Dressing quickly in the same over-sized clothes that he had just taken off, Harry went down to the back garden to begin work on the new gazebo that Vernon wanted built.

That was how his uncle found him later that afternoon, using a hand saw to cut boards to the correct lengths for the floor of the gazebo. He had already set the foundations, and was waiting for the concrete to set some before leveling them. Evidently though, his day's progress was not sufficient for Vernon Dursley, who could be found at precisely 6:42 pm Greenwich Mean Time, beating his nephew Harry with a rather green piece of fencing lumber. 'Could' being the key word, as no one actually happened to find him at it. Whoever it was that was meant to be 'guarding' Harry that day had obviously gone for a toilet break; unless of course they'd shut their eyes and put up a silencing charm, in which case they really ought to be sacked. As it was, no one saw and at 8:00 pm Harry drug himself through the house, past the oblivious Dursley family (congregated rather cozily in the TV room), and up the stairs to the bathroom, for his long awaited shower.

He lay in the floor of the shower, letting the warm water soothe his aching body; watching the stream of pink-tinged water make its way toward the drain, and thinking about his life.

'What did I do to deserve this? Perhaps I was a lawyer in a past life? No, you were a mortician. I was a what!? Why do you always pop up and say annoying stuff like that when I've just managed to start a good whinge? I'm just sitting here minding my own business, feeling sorry for myself and there you are, ruining it. Well, technically it **is** my business as well, since I'm you and all, but you're so bloody boring sometimes that I feel I must interrupt you, if only to save my insanity. And that takes me back to where I started! I'm bloody and bruised, and I really can't think of what I've done to deserve it! Well, you did get Cedric killed, and nearly got Sirius and all of your friends killed last year, brought the Dark Lord back from wherever he was... All right! I get it! So what if I do deserve it, I can still whinge about it can't I? Not when I'm around you can't. Well then you can bloody well GO AWAY!!**'**

At this point Harry was interrupted, quite rudely, by the water going ice cold, so he pulled himself to his feet and got out of the shower. (If he spent more than 8 minutes in there his aunt always shut off the hot water.) Wrapping a towel around his waist, he made his way across the hall and into his tiny bedroom, where his owl was waiting for him, a letter clutched in her beak.

_Had he bothered to look in the mirror on his way out of the bathroom, Harry would have noticed something decidedly odd. All of the cuts he had received that day had already mended themselves, leaving only the red lines of fresh scarring on his skin. But as he did not look into the mirror and was sufficiently distracted by his conversation with himself, he did not notice that his over-worked and abused muscles had stopped aching several minutes prior to his entering his bedroom._

"Hello Hedwig." Harry whispered, walking up to the beautiful snowy white owl and running two fingertips down her neck. Her eyes lulled shut at the affectionate contact, but opened again as her Master spoke to her again. "Is that for me?" At this rather inane question, Hedwig would normally have given Harry her signature 'I'm not some common barn owl' look, but as Harry had yet to receive any mail at all that summer, she decided that it was indeed a fair question and hooted gently instead.

He had been sending his reports to the Order every three days, like they had asked. They were always short, to the point, and basically identical.

"I am fine. Nothing new here. Will be in touch if anything changes. How is everyone?

-Harry"

He had expected that he would receive some type of response to these notes, or at least to the chattier (is that a word?) letters he had been sending to Sirius, Ron and Hermione, but he had heard nothing from them since he had left them at Platform 9 ¾ . He was getting rather depressed about it actually, and his loneliness had often been the subject of his internal arguments with the voice in his head. This in itself only served to depress him even more as his other voice was rather annoyingly sarcastic, and for some reason sounded disturbingly like Roseanne Barr. Not that Harry actually knew this, having never had the chance to watch any American sitcoms. So, having fallen into a fairly unshakeable funk, Harry took the letter from Hedwig, expecting it to be for some other 'Harry'.

What he was most certainly **not** expecting, when he broke the plain blue wax seal on the parchment Hedwig had given him, was to feel a cool touch across his back and to hear the musical voice of the shadow woman he had spoken to that morning, resounding through his head.

"At midnight they will begin to appear, young Harry Potter. Your fate will be set into motion and your time of greatness, and great trial, will begin. Trust in your guardian and all will be well."

As the voice drifted off, and Harry's eyes fell shut, his mind and body entering into an enchanted sleep, his last thought as a 15 year old was, "Fabulous, one more thing to make me a freak."


	3. Ch 2: Perspicuity

Chapter 2: Perspicuity 

- - - - - - - - - **31 July** - - - - - - -

Harry awoke at dawn on his birthday, fully, with no remnants of sleep making his mind fuzzy or body slow. He lay still on his mattress, watching the spider that made residence on his ceiling. She was creeping along toward the southern wall of the room, but stopped when Harry stood.

His sleep that night had been pure and unhindered by visions of the Dark Lord, or nightmares of his own imagining. He had experienced much, though, while he slept peacefully. Flashes of light, whispers on the wind, new scents washed over him, and a force, powerful and elusive, beautiful and passionate, light and dark, everywhere and in everything.

As he stood in the middle of his small bedroom, Harry now understood what the Shadow Watcher had meant by 'changes'. He could feel the magic in everything around him. In the air, in the wooden floorboards, in the cotton of the towel that was still wrapped around his waist from the night before, even in the small spider now hanging from the ceiling by a single silken thread. He could also distinguish scents, and sounds, even to the tiniest degree. He could hear a dog barking outside, and knew that it was exactly 54 feet from where he was standing, knew that it was a 3 year old Chihuahua named Fifi, and knew that he was barking at the injustice of having to wear pink toenail lacquer. He could smell the sharp essence of fear coming from the spider, and the various 'parfums de Dursley' permeating the house. After standing for at least 10 minutes, just letting his senses get used to the new clarity, he suddenly realized that he could see. He wasn't wearing his glasses, yet he could see everything in almost excruciating detail, right down to the separate particles of dust, resting on his bedroom doorframe.

Harry would remember that moment for the rest of his life. The moment when the **reasoning** behind things became clear to him. His head was no longer riddled with questions of "why," but was now void of this confusion, in order to make room for things to come. He now understood, as he heard his uncle marching noisily across the hall to his bedroom door, that Vernon feared him as he feared no other. He was still, after all of these years, trying to beat and belittle the magic out of Harry. He thought that perhaps if he were to cause his nephew enough pain, his magic would leave him. A futile mission, Harry knew, as the magic did not come from within him but around him. Vernon did not know this, though, nor did he care.

- - - - - - - **14 August **- - - - - - - - - - -

It had been 2 weeks since Harry's birthday. Days filled with pain, sorrow, understanding and pity; nights a constant cycle of restless sleep and torturous visions. He had received no greetings on his birthday, unless you count the gory raid on a muggleborn wizard's household and the subsequent torture and murders. No reprieve had he been granted from his daily suffering, his uncle's beatings enhanced by his sharpened senses, each blow containing the pain of a miniature Cruciatus. The insults finding their mark deeper each time, and adding to the guilt that Harry already felt each day and night. The 'gift' of clarity wasn't exactly making him feel any better either, because it was a strictly academic sort of awareness. It didn't change the fact that he felt guilty over every murder committed by the Dark Lord, or for the death of Cedric Diggory or the near fatal encounters of his friends and godfather the previous school term. It simply took away his immaturity and youth. He felt about 100 years older than he should, and the constant abuse to his body wasn't making that number decrease in the least.

His workload at 'home' had increased steadily over time, as he would be going back to school in a matter of weeks and there were so many things that just **had** to be done before he left; and of course he still had to work at the gravel yard each day. His 'summer internship' there would be ending on August 27, so that he could have time to recover his sore muscles and pick up his supplies before leaving for school on September 1. All this meant to Harry was that he had less time and little energy left in the afternoons to complete the list of chores left for him by his uncle. It was due to this unavoidable time constraint that one Harry Potter was sited at 4:56 pm on Sunday August 14, by a Mrs. Vera Stamp of Number 12 Privet Drive, re-shingling the roof of the garden shed at Number 4 Privet Drive. She thought to herself that this was rather odd, as she could swear she had seen the boy doing the same task earlier that summer on June 28th, but with a shake of her head she dismissed the errant musing and went on down the street to Number 8, where she was greeted by the incessant yapping of Fifi the cross-dressing Chihuahua.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harry wiped at a rivulet of sweat that was making it's way down his face and looked out onto the street from his vantage point at the top of the Dursley's garden shed. He saw the old lady from Number 12 glance at him before making her way on down the sidewalk, and wondered for a moment what it would be like to be so ordinary. The thought was quickly pushed from his mind however, by the intense ache that reasserted itself over his entire body as he moved to continue working on the shingling.

His enhanced senses were making life much more difficult for him. Every sound was 5 time louder than before, every sight sharper, every scent more repugnant and all of his nerve endings were practically on fire with every strain of muscle. Harry felt as if the gods were punishing him for living, like he could help that. He had even thought several times about letting them have their way, and had fallen into an even more advanced depression than he had been in before. He rarely spoke anymore, and went through his daily routine without emotion or complaint. He had no appetite and only ate enough to keep himself alive, the result of this being that he had absolutely no fat content on his body at all and his wiry muscles were feeling the strain of being overworked and drawn on for life-giving energy. As he continued into the evening, finishing his outdoor chores, he felt slightly lightheaded with a distinct pain originating behind and a bit below his left ear. He just passed it off as hunger though, and moved on with his evening, finally finishing the roof of the garden shed at around 8:45 pm and going inside the house to take a shower in peace while trying to ignore the headache he could feel building into a migraine.

'Stupid changes. Couldn't just leave me the way I was before could they? Noooooo, that would be too easy wouldn't it. I just have to be Harry BLOODY Potter and have all the special important voodoo weird voicy stuff happen to me don't I. Stupid voices and their stupid changes making my life a living hell and they don't even come back to tell me what's going on. Just leave me in the dark why don't you! It's ok because he's just a little 'golden boy' with nothing else to worry about besides saving the entire world and killing evil bad guys and trying to finish school and live through the summer with his stupid muggle uncle and... _Would you bloody well shut UP you whiney little bastard! _Hey, I resent that. My parents were married thank you very much, and I'll have you know that I don't whine. I complain in a perfectly dignified, if slightly run-on manner. _Right. And I'm a purple mooncalf._ Are you really? You may want to get that looked at you know. I hear it's unhealthy to be a mooncalf capable of vocalization. Especially on Sundays. Or any day for that matter. _Shut up. Ingrate. Did you never think that perhaps these changes had some purpose, in the long run?_ Not recently. And would you shut up, I have a headache.**'**

Harry continued to bicker with himself silently throughout his shower until he was safely dressed in a pair of boxer shorts (8 sizes too big) and in his bedroom, stroking Hedwig's feathers. He had begun to think again, about the value of his life, and whether or not his survival would be in any way helpful to anyone, because the pain was too much for him to bear much longer. He needed an out, but in the end always decided to put these thoughts aside in favor of making it through one more day. Although, the by now excruciating pain in his head was sort of pushing all conscious thought from his head. He had hoped that the shower would help, thinking (wrongly of course) that it might be a tension headache, but it hadn't and now the origination point just below/behind his left ear was throbbing. He could feel it with his fingertips when he pressed them to his head, and it was getting worse every minute. Harry began to panic slightly, thoughts of brain tumors and hemorrhages flashing through his mind. He could smell his own fear in the air around him, and could hear the rapid beating of his heart as his body reacted to his unease. At this point, about 10 minutes after he had come in from his shower, the intense pain was making him feel nauseous and lightheaded, and he fell from the spindly chair he had been seated on, landing on his hands and knees on the bare wood flooring, barely saving himself from cracking his skull on the boards. The room was spinning around him in a distorted pain-fogged whirl, and he lay himself down on the floor as gently as his unstable body would allow.

Just as he was preparing to succumb to the pain and the darkness that threatened to surround him, Harry felt a familiar cool touch brush up his spine and come to rest on the back of his neck, soothing him and dulling his pain temporarily; enough that he regained awareness of himself and his surroundings. As he gazed out into his bedroom from his position on the floor, he could vaguely make out the writhing darkness that he recognized as his shadow messenger. Once again, the mysterious but resonant female voice surrounded him.

"Do not fear the pain, for it will help you bear your burden in the end, but you must endure it until the change is complete. You have made it half way, but crueler things are to come. Believe in yourself and in your magic, be strong and do not take the easy path. Tonight you will be given great knowledge and memories from distant pasts. They will show you what you are."

Harry extended an arm toward the twisting shadows that danced around the room as the voice faded. He was confused, but knew not to question any information she gave him, as he would more than likely get a vague reply. He only had one small request, which he croaked out from a dry throat, quietly, as the cool hand had left his skin.

"Your name? Please!"

"I am called... Nerys."

And with that final piece of information, she was gone. Harry managed to stay conscious for another minute, seeing Hedwig looking at him quizzically and hooting softly before he allowed himself to fall into blissful darkness.

- - - - - - **15 August** - - - - - -

It was several hours later, in the very early morning before dawn when Harry's eye flew open in shock as his body arched violently from the floor. Anyone peering through his window at that moment would have thought him possessed, but in reality he was in a sort of memory shock. Scenes of days long past flashed before his mind's eye so quickly that it was impossible to catch one scene or even time period for even a fraction of a second. His mind was going through such a serious influx of information that his body had sort of gone into sensory overload, and all of his muscles had flexed basically at the same time. This combined with a bit of wild magic from Harry was what made his body rise off the floor, back arched but limbs limp with his head lolled back like a discarded rag doll, except his eyes were wide open and moving back and forth at an incredible rate.

This continued for nearly an hour, Harry just hanging in the air 3 feet off the ground and rotating slowly, until suddenly at 4:33 am, his eyes snapped shut and his body dropped to the floor with a rather loud "THUMP", and he lie there, still as death but for the steady rise and fall of his chest. This is how his aunt found him when she came to bang rudely on his door at 7:02 am.


	4. Ch 3: Hell's Fury

Chapter Three: Hell's Fury

- - - - - - - **15 August, cont. - - - - - - -**

Petunia was unable to wake Harry when she entered his room that morning, but in a rare fit of humanity she decided to leave him be and phoned his employer at the gravel yard to tell him that Harry would be unable to attend work that day. The boy just looked so incredibly miserable and vulnerable lying there on the floor, and her motherly instinct finally kicked in temporarily when it came to Harry, in some small way, and she made an effort to distract Vernon and Dudley until they left the house for their daily plans.

Harry's unmoving body lay on the hard floor of his bedroom. Hours passed by slowly and there were no movements from the smallest bedroom at Number 4. The stillness of his body however, did not reflect on the activity of his mind. His system was very busy that day, assimilating all the new information it had been bombarded with during the night. Past lives found their places within Harry's memory, knowledge gathered over the course of thousands of years settled into his mental files, and the comfortable wisdom of great age and experience established itself in him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was nearly 6 pm when the first signs of consciousness appeared in Harry. His eyes began moving slowly behind their lids, then a hand twitched, he drew a great shuddering breath and moaned in pain. The sky began to darken above Little Whingig as he awoke, and a faint rumbling of thunder could be heard in the distance.

The first coherent thought that passed Harry's mind that evening as he opened his eyes was, "Damn, that hurt." His thoughts then progressed to "Where the hell am I?" and "WHO the hell am I?!" He was slightly confused, with good cause. Multiple lives flashed through his mind in an instant, before settling on the one he was currently experiencing. "Oh."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Vernon was whistling as he walked through the front garden that evening at 6:33 pm. He had had a good day at work, eating pastries and ordering people about, generally making a nuisance of himself. Petunia watched him through the front window as she listened to the quiet rustling coming from the smallest bedroom on the second floor. Finally the boy was awake.

"Good evening my dear!" Mr. Dursley greeted his wife at the door in his usual manner, with a kiss on the cheek. "How was your day?"

Petunia glanced at the stairs quickly before replying, "Oh, it was splendid. So quiet. I locked the boy in his bedroom all day."

"Excellent. I don't want to see his face tonight, I've had a pleasant day. In fact, why don't we go out for supper this evening. We'll leave as soon as Dudley gets home." Vernon sneered as he thought of a list of chores to have the freak do while they were out of the house.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Well, that was certainly more traumatic than last time," Harry muttered to himself as he stretched and contorted his body into various positions, trying to crack every joint and soothe every muscle he could figure out how to reach. "Must be because I'm a runty little git," he commented as he looked down at himself critically. He was having a slight amount of trouble sorting himself out; he kept thinking he was a 6'3" blonde with a burly chest and a nine pack. "I suppose it will have to do for now though, won't it. Yep."

He heard Vernon come in and speak to his aunt. He smelt relief in the air, when Vernon said they would be going out to dinner, and wondered about it for a moment before he heard his uncle's voice bellow up the stairs at him. "BOY! We're going out. You'd better have your chores done and be in that room before we get home or you'll be back under the stairs before you can blink!"

Ten minutes later Dudley walked in the door and promptly began whining that he was hungry. Petunia simpered at him, Vernon made a comment about him being strong as an ox, and the family walked out the door, got in their car, and drove away.

Harry waited another five minutes before opening his door and making his way down the hallway to the stairs. He was still sore from his ordeal the night before, and from the beatings he had been receiving lately, so it took him several minutes to get down the stairs. He walked into the kitchen to find his list of chores and find a piece of bread to eat. Munching on some stale ends that he found in the bread drawer, Harry picked up his list and stared down at it ... and stared some more, mouth hanging open and bread crumbs falling onto the floor. The Dursleys had left him some incredibly stupid chores before, but this took the cake. As he read down the list, he could do nothing but shake his head, and ready himself for life in the cupboard.

_Wash the car. **But ... it's in London?**_

_Clean the pool. **They don't have a pool!**_

_Organize the basement. **What basement?**_

_Polish Dudley's marble collection. **Uhm. Okaaay...**_

_Die. **That's nice.**_

Being the only possible thing from a list of impossible (or otherwise unwise) tasks, Harry went up to 'his' room to polish Dudley's marble collection, which he finished in about 2 minutes since Dudley's 'collection' consisted of exactly four and a half marbles.

After finishing with that, being extremely tired from the day's exertions, he went back up to his bedroom and brought all of his things down to the cupboard under the stairs. Harry had had enough experience by that time to know that Vernon would make good on his promise to throw him back in there, and decided to save himself the pain; so after pushing his things in, he laid down on the floor of the cramped space, and went to sleep.

- - - - - - - - **16 August** - - - - - - - - -

'Lazy good for nothing fat arse muggle. Do this boy! Do that boy! Well what if I don't want to you bloody cretin!? Hmm? What then. I guess you suppose I'll just do it anyway, yeah?! Well I will then! _That didn't make any sense moron._ Yes it did! Shut up. I didn't ask you anyway. _You never ask me, but I always tell you anyhow. _Yes! And it's bloody fucking annoying you stupid American bitch! _Hey! _**Don't mind him he's just feeling a bit snarky.** Who the hell is that!? How many voices do I need in my head just to complain about my ugly uncle? **At least three more I'd say. Perhaps four since you don't really mean it. Mmm. **_Or maybe just one more, but it would have to be Canadian. Or maybe Swedish. **I resent that.**_ OO**'**

- - - - - - - - -

Harry was not having a very good day. He'd woken up that morning in his cupboard, and strangely, it was rather comforting. After living in there for 10 years, confined spaces made him feel safe, and protected in a way. There was a peace to the early morning, the house quiet, lying in the darkness; but then it was ripped away by the sound of Vernon coming down the stairs above him and throwing open the door to his cupboard. Harry was lost in his own thoughts as his uncle grabbed him by his arm and flung him into the hall, and therefore didn't have time to react before his head hit the wall.

His vision went blurry, and as he tried to listen to Vernon through the haze that the blow to his head was causing Harry saw something, in astonishing clarity despite his pain. He saw the desperate terror and insanity inside his uncle, and he sympathized with it. At that moment, his life changed once again, because although he had understood on some base level before, he now was able to understand and accept the motivations and feelings of those around him. It was strangely like empathy, and he could no longer hate Vernon because of his fear.

As he sat there, again lost in his thoughts, he vaguely heard his uncle order him to get out of his house and not be late to work before stomping off into the kitchen. He shook his head once, to clear the fading haze from his mind, then quickly got dressed and dashed out of the house, barely making it to the gravel yard in time to bag the first load of the morning.

At that point Harry's day had been ... fairly normal. The whole, understanding everyone's pain and suffering and whatnot was a bit odd, but when was his life not odd? No, it was the small things that made him have angry conversations with the voices in his head. Toward the end of his 'work' day, three 50 lb. sacks of gravel fell off the steel he was loading them onto, and landed on him. Then on his way home, he'd tripped on a crack in the street and landed on his bum, which resulted in a big bruise, which was seen by a group of teenagers from the local secondary school. Then when he'd got back to Privet Drive, he'd been given a long list of chores to do before he could go back to his cupboard that night.

It was 7:56 pm and Harry Potter was in the front garden of the Dursley home, weeding. Again. He'd also just discovered that he had some unknown number of new voices in his head. Probably run over from all his past lives.

'Which is just bloody great, I'm telling you. Innumerable past lives, all with their special little imaginary friends, and idiot multiple personalities. _**I don't have multiple personalities! **Shut up!_ **Prats. Leave him alone. **Thank you. **Sure.** Hmm.**'**

As Harry continued to pull weeds and argue with himself, he didn't notice the slight movements coming from the row of heather that lined the garden fence. Nor did he notice the beautiful creature that slowly crept up to him, flicking its tongue curiously.

"_What's it doing? Silly thing. The earth is our friend. We should bite it. Yesss._"

Harry's head shot up when he heard the voice, talking about him. "No! Don't bite me, please."

The young serpent made a surprised noise and coiled up when it heard him. It was a truly beautiful specimen. Slender, approximately two and one half feet long, and completely white but for the slightly darker coloration of the markings. "_It speaks! What is it?_"

"Just a boy. A human. My name is Harry."

"_Harry. Never has one of your kind spoken before. Why should I not bite you. You kill the earth!_"

"There is only one other of my kind that speaks. Be glad you haven't met him, and please don't bite me. I have no choice but to pull these plants, or else my family will hurt me."

"_Humans hurt their own kin? What kind of beasts are you, to do such things._"

"Not all humans do such things. Just my kin. They hate me because I am different. They're frightened of me. They cannot help it."

"_I see. Fear is a powerful thing. Not all beings are strong enough to overcome it. Your kin are weak of will. Beings with weak will can be very dangerous. Perhaps I should stay with you from now on. Many beings are frightened of my kind. Would you like my companionship?_"

"I would very much like if we could be companions. Would you like to come to my school with me when I go back in a couple of weeks?"

"_I would like to stay with you always, if you will allow it young Harry. I have no kin to be with. You can be my kin._"

"Fabulous! I do get rather lonely. But if we're to be kin, I must know your name."

"_When I was a nestling, my mother called me Meinwen. That is my name._"

"It is a beautiful name."

Meinwen hissed happily at that, and settled back in one of the heather plants to watch as Harry finished weeding the front garden and prepared to go indoors. As he stood up, she (yes, it's a she) slithered up his leg and inside his shirt, to coil herself around his stomach.

Both Harry and Meinwen sensed a change in the air as they went back into the house, and Harry looked up to see that a storm was brewing over Little Whingig. He shrugged it off though. Rain was hardly an uncommon thing in Britain after all. Neither of the companions noticed however, that the storm suddenly disappeared into the night sky as the door of the house shut, and all natural noise ceased for several milliseconds, restarting only when the sound of the closing door vanished.

- - - - - - - - **17 August** - - - - - - - - - -

Harry tried to ignore the pain in his right cheek as he rummaged through the garden shed. That morning, Vernon had gotten an urgent call from Grunnings. They'd asked him to, "Please come in to the office at your earliest convenience." Which actually meant that he'd better bring his fat arse down there right now. He'd been furious, but Harry hadn't known that when he came out of his cupboard to go to the loo. Vernon had looked at him with a certain gleam in his eye, one that promised pain, and before he had backed up even one step Vernon had backhanded him across the face.

Harry now believed that the blow had broken his cheekbone, as it hurt to move his face in any way. He concentrated on keeping his face as still as possible as he unwound the garden hose from the pipe that protruded from the side of the shed. A gentle movement around his waist reminded Harry that Meinwen at least was still with him. She wouldn't leave him, or think badly of him because of his family.

'It's really unfortunate you know. An entire family paralyzed by fear to such an extent. _Yes, but at least there is no one here now to bother you._ Yes. Aunt Petunia took Dudley into London to have his new school uniform fitted. He has to have them specially tailored now you know. **_Really? _**Yep. If you'd ever seen him you would believe it in a second. He must weigh about 400 lbs. **Wow. That's a lot.** _Yeah yeah. Shut up. Just because you were built like a god doesn't mean we all can be. _ **Sorry.** _Whatever._ Would you guys stop please?! My face hurts enough without adding a headache to the mix.**'**

It had already been several hours since all of the Dursleys left the house that morning. Harry had cleaned the dishes, vacuumed the entire house, scrubbed all the toilets, dusted, mopped, polished the silver, and was, at the time of his most recent discussion with himself, beginning a new rose bed in the back garden. His aunt had seen some lovely iceberg roses in the neighbor's yard and absolutely HAD to have some of her own. So, there he sat, at 2:17 pm on a Saturday, clearing ground, making holes and putting five small rose plants into them; he did notice a slight chill in the air, a sudden quiet and a slight darkness, but paid it no heed as he finished up.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Vernon Dursley was not at all happy as he quietly made his way into his house. In fact, you could call him violently infuriated. You know, when someone is so angry that they're calm? So focused on their own bad fortune, that nothing else matters except for release. Like when steam builds up in a tea kettle, getting hotter and hotter, smoldering as the bowels of Hell, before expelling itself by way of the spout. That's what the whistling sound is. Fury.

Those were the things that Mr. Dursley felt as he trudged his way through his house and into the kitchen. His company board of executives had called him in that morning to discuss with him the reason why he was being voted out of his position at Grunnings. Evidently the company had come under investigation for tax fraud, and the authorities had discovered that one Mr. Vernon Dursley had been cheating on his business taxes for the past ten years, and he was personally being sued by the government for the sum of £1,000,000.00, and facing many years of jail time.

It is safe to say that Dursley was not exactly in a stable frame of mind as he went to the kitchen window to check on the boy's progress in the back garden. A shadow crossed his face as he took in the scene from his window. There was his abomination of a nephew, bent over gathering up the garden tools, surrounded by an atmosphere more suitable for dusk, than midday. It was night in his back garden, but day in the neighbors'. Vernon's wrath had found its vent.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_The old fat one is coming._" Harry heard his new companion hiss to him, as his uncle came slowly out of the kitchen door.

"I know Meinwen. Please try to stay out of sight, and be silent. I don't want him to harm you."

"_Yes Harry._"

"What are you doing boy!" Vernon fairly screeched at Harry. "I'll have no more of your abnormality in my home!" With the pleasantries out of the way, not waiting for a response from the boy, Vernon grabbed him by the shirt collar and slammed him up against the side of the shed, but swiftly drew his hand back as he heard a sickening squelching sound, and a small grunt from the boy.

Harry's eyes widened, almost comically as he felt himself impaled, and let out a quiet grunt, blood already pooling in his mouth and running down his chin. Through hazy vision, he looked down slightly to see the jagged end of the pipe he used to hang the garden hose on, protruding from his chest, and let out another small gurgling groan as his vision slowly faded to gray.

Vernon stared in horror as his nephew slowly slumped against the wall of the shed, body supported slightly by the pipe, keeping him from collapsing completely to the ground, and he heard one last exhalation of blood smattered breath before turning and fleeing through the house, squealing tires in his haste to get away from Number 4 Privet Drive.

As such, he did not see the corpse in his back garden as it began to gleam in the light of the dying afternoon sun. Nor did he see it as it burst into violent indigo flames before disappearing completely, leaving no trace behind, except for a trail of blood.


	5. Ch 4: Lemon Drop?

Chapter Four: Lemon Drop?

- - - - - - - - - **Meanwhile, in Scotland** - - - - - - - - - -

The proprietor of the small candy shop in Dalwhinnie, Scotland (Mr. Barclay Carson) stared warily at the old man who was standing in a shady corner at the back of the shop, scrutinizing the new shipment of lemon drops. They'd just ordered a new brand of the small hard candies, with some sort of new coating, more lemony evidently. Mr. Carson didn't really see what the old man saw in the sweets, but he infallibly showed up at the shop bi-monthly to replenish his supply.

"Will that be all for you today Mr. Dumbledore?" He asked as Dumbledore came up to the counter with an entire case of the little citrus candies.

"Oh yes, thank you Mr. Carson, this will be quite enough for some time." Dumbledore replied, rather distractedly, as Mr. Carson rang up his order and accepted the £50.00 for the candies.

Something wasn't right, he could feel it in his bones, but he didn't know what it was. He had that sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach. The one that you get when you're beyond nervous, or really scared; and his skin felt hot and cold at the same time, a prickling feeling creeping up his neck. He quickly took his box of candies and rushed out of the shop, eager to return to Hogwarts so that he could figure out what was wrong.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As a precaution, Dumbledore had several devices in his office that conveyed the state of certain people, and things, so that he would know if they were in danger. He had a clock like the one in the Weasley house, with the names of all the Hogwarts staff on it, a little silver bunny rabbit trinket that would come alive and hop across his desk if there were an uncontrollable fire in any of the school bathrooms (oddly enough, the rabbit had never hopped across his desk), and he had several small glowing orbs, to monitor the life forces of people important to him in one way or another. The orbs would glow a gentle gold while the person they were keyed to was alive, and would flash red if the person were dying, before going out completely at the time of death, which would be inscribed onto the orb, along with cause of death, beneath the name of the person whose life force it was monitoring.

Unfortunately, as it turns out, Dumbledore failed to notice in his nervous frenzy that one of the orbs he had resting on his mantelpiece had gone out, and now had the words "2:45 pm GMT, murder by way of impalement" inscribed beneath the name 'Harry James Potter'. Of course, had he noticed this small fact, he would still not have been able to do anything about the untimely death of his favorite student, so perhaps it is just as well that he did not discover the occurrence until 6 o'clock that evening, after spending the day worrying and rummaging through his desk and an empty bureau in an abandoned classroom on the 5th floor.

- - - - **17 August, 6:45 pm **- - - -

The door creaked as it was opened by an invisible hand; the house silent, but for the sounds of shuffling and clothing rustling as people entered the kitchen.

"Where is everyone?" One voice came ghosting out of the darkness, identified, as Sirius Black dropped his invisibility spell and glanced over his shoulder at his companions, now also visible, all looking around the house in search of signs of life.

The house appeared to have been ransacked; furniture overturned, items strewn across counter tops and floor. Either someone had left in a hurry, or there had been some type of altercation. "Remus, go and check the upper rooms, Sirius search the main floor, and I'll scan for signs of foreign magic."

They quickly complied to Albus' commands, the kitchen door swinging in their wake. Remus, hurrying up the stairs, noticed immediately that all of the bedrooms had been practically turned upside down, except for the smallest, which was pristine as it could possibly be considering the meager furnishings. After concluding that there was no one on the second floor, he descended the stairwell to share his findings, but his attention was caught in the front hall by a shrill beeping sound coming from a small box-like contraption sitting on a table. Inspecting the box, which was placed next to something he recognized as a muggle fellytone, he noticed that there was a small blinking "2" on the front.

"Albus, would you come in here for a moment please?" Remus' voice caught Sirius' attention as well and brought both men to his side. "What do you think it means?"

"It appears to be an answer machine."

Both Sirius and Remus looked up at Albus, confused. They had very little idea about anything muggle.

"It is a fascinating invention. Apparently, it answers the fellytone when the muggles are not at home, and keeps the messages for them."

"Well, how do we make it reveal it's secret?"

"Perhaps this button that says 'Play'?"

Having said this, Remus proceeded to depress said button. Message 1 was some person called Julia who wanted Mrs. Dursley to ring her back at her soonest convenience, but message 2 proved to be far more interesting to the three men. The thick and frantic voice of Vernon Dursley filled the hall after the mechanic voice of the answer machine woman announced the time, 3:57 pm.

"Petunia, the boy is dead in the back garden. Don't go out there. Go to Marge's and don't try to find me; you won't see me again. I love you, tell Dudley I am proud of him. I didn't mean to do it, I swear it, I never wanted to kill anyone. Pack your things and you and Dudley get away. The boy's freak friends will be coming to check on him eventually, but you shouldn't be punished for my sins. I'm sorry for leaving you like this but I can't go on. I never really wanted him dead I swear. Goodbye Petunia..."

The last think they heard was a loud bang, and something heavy falling to the floor, then silence.

There were several moments during which the three wizards stood completely still, shocked into inaction at what they had just learned. They had of course been hoping that Dumbledore's little orb had simply malfunctioned, but Vernon Dursley, Harry's own uncle, had murdered him and then killed himself. It was another loud beep from the answering machine that jarred them back to reality. Sirius took a great shuddering breath, and with a hollow look in his eyes, strode quickly out into the back garden of Number 4, Albus and Remus trailing slowly behind him.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Whipping his head back and forth, gazing into ever corner of the garden, Sirius could feel his panic grow with every passing second.

"Where is he Albus!? Where is my godson? Oh Merlin, Harry where are you?"

Albus and Remus, by this time, had also searched the garden for Harry's body and found nothing. A whispered 'lumos' lit the area enough though, for all of them to finally see the only evidence that remained to testify to the violent act that had occurred there that day. A glistening trail of red on the side of the garden shed, congealed on the jagged steel pipe, and spattered across the white petals of the iceberg roses that Harry had been planting that afternoon. The morbid beauty of the contrast striking Remus for a moment, before his grief began to overtake him.

"There are traces of a great magic here," Albus' voice broke the silence that permeated the night, "This is where he died, but something happened shortly after the time of death. His corpse was taken by some magical force, but it is nothing I've ever come across before. The magic is so pure..." He trailed off into a thoughtful silence, plans already forming in his mind as to where he would start his research. An explanation had to be found.

"So that's it then?" Sirius spoke up, sounding angry and stricken. "He's just dead and gone and that's it? NO! He can't be dead! He's too young. He has so much life to live still! Nooo... we have to find him, he's alive, he's just a baby still!" He broke down completely after that, sobbing and swaying back and forth as Remus pulled him into his arms, too stunned to truly comfort.

Albus quickly regained his composure and called Sirius and Remus' attention back to himself. "Come gentlemen. We must act quickly. The circumstances here are very suspicious, and will be treated as such. We will go immediately to question Mrs. Dursley, she may have noticed something out of the ordinary this summer. Do not speak of this to anyone. No one can know about this until we have learned more about what has occurred."

"What do you mean Albus?" People will eventually find out that he's dead. We can't just hide it, and it's not like he's going to pop back to life just because we didn't tell anyone! His friends will figure out that something is wrong and start poking around, and then we'll have a lot of questions to answer! We can't just ignore it and hope it will go away!"

"No Sirius, I don't think that's what he meant." Remus, ever the voice of reason, continued with the thought, "Albus said that the magical traces were pure, so his body wasn't stolen by Death Eaters, and bodies don't just disappear, so where is it? We need to speak to Petunia to see if Harry was displaying any odd behavior this summer, that might have something to do with his disappearance. We'll keep it quiet for awhile, incase something important is discovered. We can't just tell the public that the Boy-Who-Lived is dead and we don't know how or where his body is! It's for the best Sirius, just until we have researched all possibilities."

"Fine. I can see that, but what about Ron and Hermione? They are both too nosey for their own good."

"I don't think that will be a problem. I've noticed that young Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have taken a rather accelerated interest in one another over the past few weeks. In fact, I don't think they've even written to Harry in at least two weeks. We shouldn't have to worry about them for at least a week, maybe two."

"Right, well that's good for us but someone really should talk to them about ignoring Harry." Sirius grumbled, wiping a few stray tears off his face. "Well let's go talk to Lily's sister then. There's no time to waste."


	6. Mistress of the Elements

Mistress of the Elements (Interlude) 

- - - - - - - - **Immortal Realm**- - - - - - - - -

The air smelt of rain and sadness. It was hard for her every time. No matter how many times he went through the process, she always shared the pain of her beloved. This time had been particularly traumatic, because no matter how you look at it, impalement is quite painful. In fact, he was still sleeping after his return, and she hadn't left his side; but he seemed to be stirring.

"Wake up, my love." She whispered as his eyes slowly opened. "There is so much for us to catch up on."

"Nerys."

"Aye."

"It is good to be home." He whispered back, as he reached out to touch her face. "So good."

She leaned into his touch, sighing with pleasure as he finally sat up and gathered her into his arms, never wanting to let her go again. They sat like that, just basking in each other's presence and warmth for what could have been eternity, or perhaps a mere moment.

"I have to go back soon."

"I know. Oh, how I know, but I don't want to let you go. It was harder this time Braith. You've not ever been treated so badly. And by a group of mortals no less! I could barely stand to leave you there in such a vulnerable state."

"They were afraid."

"Yes."

"I suppose it is no excuse, but now that I am able to be objective, I can't help but feel sorry for them. Mortals can be so simple minded. But let's not talk about them anymore. I'm here now, and I intend to enjoy the time I have."

"Alright then, but you must tell me how the others are fairing."

"Well, Madoc is unusually snarky in his present form. I think it has something to do with him having to spend so much time around children. He has to be cruel to me as well, which pains him; I just hope he is able to forgive himself once I've returned.

"Despina is... well, she's just herself. Dreamy and absentminded, but still undeniably intelligent and highly amusing. She never seems surprised either. You just can't throw her.

"I haven't seen Ana yet, obviously. I think Desi misses her terribly, and I'm looking forward to their happy reunion. I believe she will have arrived at Hogwarts by the time of my return.

"Saoirse and Naoise are starting their first year this term, so I'll be able to keep an eye on them. I think they've probably had an o.k. time so far, but I'll have to speak with them about it when I see them.

"Remus still does not remember who he is, but I think his time is coming. The day I return he will be awakened. Odd how his mortal family gave him his own name isn't it?"

"Yes...

"I think I should tell you what your brother has been up to while you were sleeping Braith."

"Is it bad?"

"You might say that."

"Uh oh."

"You might say that as well.

"He is no longer concerned with simply causing chaos and discord in the European wizarding world. He has set his sights higher within the past year. His new goal is to cause the different nations of the world to destroy each other, causing an upset in the balance and forcing Earth to collapse."

"We can't have that can we? I wish he would stop playing these games. I want a bit a peace every once in a while, instead of constantly having to put right what he has damaged."

Braith was feeling rather put out at this point. He'd just got back home after being trapped, asleep in the body of a mortal for the past 15 years, and nearly the first thing he hears is that his twin brother is going to be more of a problem this time than he had anticipated.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_Harry... where are we, why do you look different, and who is the dark lady?"_

"Meinwen! I can't believe I forgot you. Are you ok? Did the mortal hurt you?"

"_I am well, but I think I will bite you now."_

"What? No, don't bite me, or else I won't introduce you to Nerys."

"_Is that what you call the dark one?"_

"That is her name, yes. She is my bonded. The reason I look different is because we are no longer in the mortal realm. This is my true form, and here I am called Braith. I am not sure how you managed to come here with me, but that is of little consequence."

"_Braith. That is a fine name. Almost as good as mine."_

Having said that, evidently finished with their conversation, Meinwen proceeded to coil herself around Braith's ankle and ignore him and Nerys, who could barely contain her amusement at the vain serpent.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Let's not worry about my brother right now, beloved. I'll have plenty of time to do that when I've gone back to the mortal realm; and I could think of at least 15 things that you and I could be doing together besides chatting." Braith whispered into Nerys' ear in a deep sultry voice, then picked her up into his arms and carried her off into the shadows of a nearby tree, taking no notice of the shifting colors of the sky which bathed the ground in hues of red and purple with lightning crackling above.


End file.
